Let Go
by Anjel Starlight
Summary: "I'm so sorry you have to go through this, Kurt," Blaine whispered, at a loss of what he could do. He wished and wanted so badly to take Kurt into his arms to comfort him... but he could not do that. Based on 4x18: Shooting Star. Warnings inside.
1. He Loved Me Too Much

**IMPORTANT! Please read Author's Note before reading the story.**

**A/N: Okay, first off: this story is cannon. It fits in after the ****_Shooting Star_**** episode. That being said, you'll know at a certain part in the story (I'm not telling when or what's happening) that it will not end as bad as you think. Anyways, I would recommend some tissues and a nice fluffy Klaine fic to read after. This came to me today while I was at work and I just had to write it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters depicted. This is a work of fan fiction.**

**Warnings: Klaine (—isn't together? Why?!) angst, tragedy (I refuse to say what or who, just remember this is cannon)**

**Enjoy!... cleaning up the tissues...**

* * *

The glee club room looked different.

Blaine could see the similarities of how it used to look before the school shooting. How the basic set up of the room was the same; piano at the front of the room, other instruments off to the right, large red speakers right next to them, and the chairs were still set up on the riser-steps.

...but the differences stuck out the most.

The cabinets at the front of the room had been replaced, the wood darker than the previous bamboo ones. The walls all over the room had been painted a bright but tranquil blue that offset the new cream floor tiling that had random specks of blue in it. The trophy case still stood the same but now with two national championship trophies.

Blaine could not help but smile gently at that. They had all been so amazing coming back from... everything and won. Up holding their glee club's grandeur and claiming the title of national champions for one more year.

He continued to look out over the room, letting his eyes wander to new things or reexamining the old. Taking the time to just sit and focus on the physical aspects of the room, instead of the emotional ones that they implied. How things were changed for the sake of forgetting what they went through, to create a blank slate where other familiarities had the chance to grow.

Nervous fingers pulled at his red uniform pants in an attempt to avoid standing up and pacing. He had taken his normal spot on the second row near the speakers—Well… normal for when he and Kurt had been in glee club together; but he wanted the familiarity right now.

Blaine was waiting for Kurt. He was finally going to...

He shook his head, dispelling the thought quickly. He may have grown used to being nervous now-a-days, because he always felt nervous after _that_ day, but he refused to allow himself to get worked up again.

So he focused back on the room.

Two plaques caught his eye. They hung on the wall next to the right entrance door, one older than Blaine's presence at McKinley and the other—was new.

He remembered his first week at McKinley and how the glee club members had told him to avoid getting Mr. Schue started on the story behind "Lillian Adler" because it always led to the flashbacks and stories about "the good old days".

What Blaine would not give to hear one of those stories right now to distract him... but there was no need, because he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. He did not tense like he normally would have because the steps were slow and steady, only hesitating just outside of the entrance to the room; instead of the fast paced _clicking_ that sent his heart into a fury.

Hazel eyes fell heavily on Kurt's form, watching him unblinkingly as the other teen looked over the room himself, noticing the changes and his face twisting up slightly to show his displeasure. Blaine made sure not to laugh aloud at Kurt's disapproval and simply sat up straighter, letting Kurt have his fill of the room before he walked just as slowly to the rows of chairs, slipping up to the second and taking his seat right next to Blaine's. His chair. The shorter teen dropped his gaze only briefly, watching as pale hands clasped together tightly over crossed legs.

He looked more beautiful than Blaine remembered.

Blaine had not seen Kurt for a few weeks and it had not been on the best of terms, so he was glad that his ex looked much better now. A lot had changed; but the most with the room and what had happened.

"These were our seats," Kurt whispered, looking down at the chair in front of him.

Blaine's lips pulled back into a grin and he settled into his chair more, "Yeah, they were." As easy as it would have been to allow a silence to settle between them, Blaine pressed on, "You shouldn't have come back, Kurt."

Kurt look up from the chair and out across the room, looking lost suddenly, his blue eyes wide with a mix of emotions. "Yeah," he whispered, fingers wrung until they were pink and his shoulders dropped, his body curving in on itself.

"Kurt," Blaine sighed as he studied the profile of the teen next to him, wanting to do more than look, but knowing that it would just make things harder on him. "You said you would come back, so I knew you would... but it doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't have. You're just making it harder on yourself. On me."

"I miss you," Kurt blurted out, gaze falling to the chair again.

The curly haired teen ran a hand through his hair while he turned to look away from the other boy, "I know."

"I miss you _so_ much."

Blaine gripped at his curls hard, eyes clenching shut as the stinging sensation of tears began. _This is going to be so much harder than I thought._ "I _know_," he whispered. "But Kurt—"

"Sometimes I wonder," Kurt pauses briefly after cutting Blaine off, taking a second to breathe out a shaky breath before continuing, "if I done it any differently—if I had listened to what you had to say or if we had _talked_ on Valentine's instead of..." The taller teen shook his head before looking out across the room again, "Maybe things would have been different between us. Maybe it wouldn't—" his voice cracked, "—_hurt_ this much."

"_Kurt_," Blaine pressed, turning his body slightly to face the other teen, "you can't think like that. It'll only—"

"It still _h-hurts_ so much," Kurt continued. "I feel like someone is constantly trying to pull my heart out of my chest. _Slowly_, so I always feel it." He chokes out a sob, sucking in a breath to try and calm himself. "Sometimes I can't breathe because of the pain."

The curly-haired teen slumps back into his chair, helplessly watching as Kurt was slowly falling apart... looking more like what Blaine remembered he had the last time he saw him. Broken. A shattered image of who Kurt was; barely held together, arms wrapped around himself as if trying to not lose any more pieces.

"I'm so sorry you have to go through this, Kurt," Blaine whispered, at a loss of what he could do. He wished and wanted so badly to take Kurt into his arms to comfort him... but he could not do that. Not when he knew that if he did he would never let go again... and he could not allow that.

Kurt needed more now; more than he needed Blaine, he needed to move on.

"But I miss you more," the blue-eyed teen said, wrapping his arms around his middle and doubled over. "Instead of it getting easier, it just gets harder and more painful."

"Please," Blain whispered, pleaded, "don't do this to yourself."

"I can't let g-go," Kurt whispered brokenly, his voice beginning to waver in the way that Blaine knew he was crying.

"Kurt, don't—"

"I don't want to let go," he shook his head to reaffirm his words.

"Please..." Blaine begged.

"Why did it have to be this way?" Kurt looked up from his lap and out across the room, arms loosening from his middle.

"Kurt, please..." Blaine pleaded.

"Why can't we be together?" his blue gaze fixed on the wall next to the right choir room door, on the plaques hanging there—on _one_ plaque in particular.

"Please, stop..." Blaine whispered.

"Why can't you be with me?" The taller teen stood from his seat, stepping down from the riser and slowly walking away from Blaine.

"Kurt..." Blaine cried.

"Why were you t-taken away from me?" Kurt sobbed stopping short of the front wall, eyes never leaving the plaque, even as his tears ran in constant streams down his face.

Blaine appeared standing next to him in a second, not needing to walk. Hazel eyes were trained on Kurt's face, willing him to hear but knowing he would not, "Please, Kurt. Stop doing this to yourself. Stop coming here." He paused, tempted to follow Kurt's gaze to the plaque but refused, "You can't keep holding onto me. You need to move on. I... I can't give you what you need anymore... but you can find someone else. They'll never love you as much as I do, but as long as you are shown you are loved _every_ day and you're _happy_—that'll be enough for me. I could move on—"

"Blaine."

He stayed quiet this time, but still he did not look at the plaque. He already knew what was on it, what it said. There was no need for him to look at it... Blaine would much rather look at Kurt for as long as he could; knowing that he would leave soon, not knowing how long he would be gone—if he would come back.

"I love you," Kurt whispered, hand coming up to touch the plaque.

Blaine continued to stare at Kurt's face; watching as more tears fell and the frown on his brow deepen.

"I miss you," blue-eyes closed and his hand dropped as he turned his face from the plaque suddenly, as if not being about to look at it anymore. "I'll come back soon, My B," he promised, pressing a kiss to the plaque—to the picture on it—before he stepped away.

Blaine shuddered as Kurt passed through him and walked out. He wanted to follow Kurt, go with him; but he could not. He could not leave the room, not even to watch Kurt walk down the hall and out of the school—Blaine was trapped here. Trapped in this room until he let go.

He would not do that, not yet. Not until Kurt did.

Hazel-eyes trailed slowly to the plaque, taking it in slowly despite knowing what was on it already—by heart; knowing it so well, it was as if it was engraved on his soul.

A picture of himself staring back was set in the center of the wooden plaque, framed in a goldish metal. He remembers that Kurt had taken that photo of him on his first day of glee club at McKinley. He was smiling widely... It was a time to smile, of course. He got to be with Kurt more and make new friends, become a part of another family.

Just under the photo was a goldish plate of metal that was bracketed to the wood, words deeply engraved in it.

_Blaine Anderson_

_1995-2013_

_In loving memory._

_His courage will never be forgotten._

A pain shot through his chest, high and slightly to the left of his heart.

Blaine jerked his head to look at a spot near the cabinets at the front of the room, an image flashing before him. An image of what he saw after he woke up in here.

It was him, laying on the floor, the tile different and the piano closer, Sam just off to his left and holding his hand. Mr. Schue was backing away from where he was laying, hands covered in blood—blood that was on the floor too. Blood that was his.

The shooter had gotten in the room by shoot at the lock and Sam had been first in his line of sight because the speakers blocked Marley, Jake, and Ryder—Blaine had jumped in front of him.

…he did not even know how they subdued the shooter because he had been in too much pain to focus on that. Instead he saw Sam and he hurt before he went numb the next second, Mr. Schue pressing at his chest; but he had not felt it. He knew then, that he was dying.

_"I love you guys. It's been a blast… Tell my parents and Coop I love them too. Tell Kurt—tell him I love him and the ring is in m-my… d-dream b-box. H-he kn-knows… where—"_

He looked back at the choir room door. Missing Kurt more, now that he was left to the memory of how he died; the image of his body and having to watch as his friends mourned. Having to watch Kurt come in nearly a week later, still dressed in the suit he wore to Blaine's funeral and unable to do anything as he cried and begged and pleaded until he collapsed on the floor, unable to stand on his own.

...and all Blaine could do was watch because no matter how much he held Kurt or touched him, it was as if Blaine was not even there.

Blaine closed his eyes and sank back into his seat, appearing back on the risers in his chair. He smiled sadly when he opened his eyes again, gaze trained on the doorway Kurt used.

Kurt was never going to say goodbye. He would never let go.

"I'll be waiting, Kurt."

...neither would Blaine.

* * *

His eyes snapped open as he woke to himself choking on a sob. He rolled onto his back and took several minutes to get a hold of his ragged breathing and calm his rapidly pounding heart, while wiping the tears from his cheeks and eyes one by one.

It had only been two days since the school shooting. The police were still investigating so classes had been postponed until next week. But with everything so fresh and no resolve—nightmares were a given.

Blaine sat up slowly, pulling his sweat soaked shirt off and throwing it to the side. His room was dark, not even illuminated by the moon's light on the other side of his blinds. The lingering feelings from his nightmare caused him to lean jerkily over to his bedside table, eyes darting all across the dark room for any movement.

There was none.

His hand brushed his phone and Blaine snatched it up before flopping back down and pulling his duvet over his head. Out of sight, out of mind. Not that he saw anything in the first place.

He woke his phone with a push of a button and slid the arrow across the screen before typing in his password to unlock it: 5878.

_Kurt._

Blaine pressed him lips together working them back and forth between his teeth as he went to his contacts and scrolled down to Kurt's. The brunette's face lit up the screen when Blaine tapped Kurt's name, his cell phone number just under that.

All he wanted to do was hit the little green phone and listen to Kurt answer.

_"Hey, you. What are you doing up so late?"_

_"Had a nightmare."_

_"Aw, baby! Tell me about it?"_

He would too, then they would talk for a least an hour of nothing and everything to get their minds off the kind of danger Blaine had been in, the emotional scarring that it left behind.

Blaine just wanted to _talk_ to Kurt.

...but they were not talking.

Not even in just the sense that he had not pressed the button, but that they were not talking. They had not been since a week after Valentine's when Blaine finally realized that Kurt had no intention of getting back together. That he planned on dating Adam.

Blaine's screen dulled and then went black; locking itself from being inactive too long... he let it.

He pulled the duvet from over his head and turned to lie on his side, his phone still in his hand and set up in front of his face, ready for him to use it again. All he had to do was press the button, unlock it, and tap Kurt's picture. That's all he had to do.

Letting his lips go from being worried between his teeth he closed his eyes and slipped his phone under his pillow—but did not let go of it.

Maybe he would call in a few minutes.

...maybe Kurt would.

But probably not.

* * *

**A/N: I think this is the angstiest thing I'll ever write... I'm actually dying inside a little bit leaving it like this... **

**Anyways, thank you for reading... I'm sorry if I made you cry. If it makes you feel better I cried while I was just thinking about it, while writing it, and then again when editing. Sorry. Go read some fluffy things. I have a few.**

**Until next time,**

**Anjel Starlight**


	2. I Loved Him Too Much

**A/N: Hello all. I've figured out that I want to continue this and finish it off because even though it could fit into cannon, I don't like leaving my stories without happy endings. I quick explanation, there will be four chapters total and they are broken up into levels of realization for Blaine then the final which will be the resolve. Nothing fluffy until the resolve though, so keep some tissues by.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters depicted. This is a work of fan fiction.**

**Warnings: Klaine (—isn't together? Why?!) angst, tragedy (still in cannon mode)**

**Enjoy!... cleaning up the tissues...**

* * *

Ironically, it was not Adam that Kurt ends up falling in love with after he and Blaine resolve their issues over the weeks following the shooting. It ends up being Chandler. They ran into each other in a coffee shop while Kurt was picking up Isabelle's afternoon caffeine fix... or so Kurt tells Blaine.

He can tell him stuff, they are friends after all.

Except...

When Kurt talks about how funny Chandler is, or how he does this really cute thing with his nose, or that Kurt has a favorite wrinkle on Chandler's face, or that one time that Chandler ruined the t-shirt that Blaine bought Kurt because he was making a surprise dinner, or when they first kiss, or how sweet Chandler is when he asks him out on an actual date, or why it is so funny when someone says "pudding" around either of them anymore, or who can call the other the most endearments, or when they go out to Jersey Beach for the first time, or when Kurt tells Blaine about his and Chandler's first time together...

Blaine does not tell Kurt how much it kills him.

How each memory that they create that Blaine thought _he_ would be a part of—tears him up from the inside out. How the happiness that he sees on Kurt's face—is not from Blaine. How he wants so _badly_ for Kurt to turn and just _look_ at him, _see_ him—because Kurt does not really _see_ him anymore, not since Chandler.

It is hard to describe. He wants Kurt to look, but then again—it will ruin the happiness that he has.

Even with the way his eyes stung and the hole in his chest ached, Blaine refused to not let Kurt be happy with Chandler, because it was what Kurt wanted.

That's why Blaine packed up his apartment and had a moving van being delivered in the morning.

He loved Kurt, with all his heart, but he could not live on the sidelines and watch as Kurt found the happiness Blaine promised him... in someone else.

So he called his brother and told him he was moving to L.A. Of course Cooper offered to put him up for a few weeks until he found his own place (really Cooper said they could be roommates, but there was only so much of his brother that he could stand).

Do not get him wrong, he had tried. For nearly two years.

But it was too much for him anymore.

The waiting.

The wanting.

The wondering.

The hoping.

The practical begging to every god in existance.

He found himself falling in love with Kurt again—as he fell in love with Chandler.

It was wrong.

It felt wrong.

It was always going to be wrong.

Even more wrong than that—he had not told Kurt he was leaving yet, and he was leaving _tomorrow._

He was a coward.

Blaine huffed out a sigh and looked out over the East River bay again.

He felt this undeniable need to fill his last full day in New York just travelling to his favorite spots, some of which he had not seen in weeks or months. He started in Central Park and spent a good hour just walking around Strawberry Fields wanting to feel the music that was not there. Hopping the Metro bus down 72nd street until they hit Broadway where he walked the length of it pretending he was on his way to an audition until he hit Columbus Circle and got onto another Metro down 8th until 49th where he walked over to Hell's Kitchen. He fantasied that he could hear Chef Ramsay yelling from within but he rolled his eyes at that before he booked it back down 49th until he got to The Rink at Rockefeller Center—his mind flipped to an image of Kurt on skates, shaky as the first time Blaine took him—he decided to leave as fast as he could.

The memories that continued to filter into his mind did not stop him from continuing on his own private tour of his favorite Manhattan Island spots. He walked over to Times Square, standing on the same steps Kurt did at Nationals his junior year, almost letting the tears building in his eyes fall. He made the walk from Rockefeller to Times seem like a cake walk as he walked down Broadway again through Midtown until he got to Korea Town, where he said good-bye to the old woman he bought all his spices from and told her he would visit again with a hug. She reminded Blaine of his grandmother and would miss her when he moved.

A Metro down the Avenue of the Americas allowed his feet enough of a break, at least until he got to Lower Manhattan and walked down Broome to get to Little Italy. He stopped and enjoyed an Italian crème soda at a cafe that he took Kurt to once, while he was debating ordering a sandwich—he remembered it was the place that Kurt first told Blaine about running into Chandler again.

He did not stay.

Instead he walked over to Chinatown and enjoyed a plate of Orange Chicken, which he might have been laughed at for but at least he mastered the art of eating with chopsticks when he was eight. Kurt was not as good at him, but really no one could blame him, Blaine had it in his genes. Well, not really, but still. He left a generous tip and slightly heavier with each memory of Kurt and their Chinese date nights. He debated on whether going to the World Trade Center but decided that it was too late and he really wanted to get to his last destination: Brooklyn Bridge.

So with the help of the Metro and some more walking, here Blaine stood, as he had for the last half hour: halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge staring out at the East River with his phone in his hand and Kurt's number lighting up his screen.

_It's only right..._ he thought watching the way the moon and city lights were playing across the waves, _I need to tell him. I can't just leave and not expect him to not notice, not care. _Blaine shook his head at the irony, _Telling him that I'm leaving tomorrow will upset him, but it won't break his heart... _His breath grew shaky and his vision blurred as the hole in his chest throbbed in the way that it had since Kurt became someone else's, since Kurt broke up with him, _It won't break his heart, but it'll break mine. At least what's left of it._

He needed to draw the strength to call Kurt. It would not be right to have spent the whole day saying goodbye to New York... and in a way, saying goodbye to Kurt without actually _telling_ to him about leaving.

Blaine did not even look at his phone as he tapped the green square on the screen, bringing it up to his ear just as the ringing began.

_RING_

_No backing out, Anderson._

_RING_

_If you can't tell him you love him..._ he closes his eyes at the thought.

_RING_

_…then at least you owe him this._

_"Hey, B!"_

_He used to call me 'My B'._

A smile comes over his lips almost immediately, sad and fake but automatic because he has instilled into himself to always smile around Kurt, even if it was over the phone. "Hey, Kurt. Sorry to call so late."

_"No trouble!"_ There is some shifting in the background and Kurt giggles then whispers something away from the speaker. _"I can always spare time for my bestie."_

_Fuck._ "Yeah, I know, and you know it's the same for me," his smile grows, the sweet words run deeper than he wants to allow but it is not something that he could help—especially when it was for the love of his life. "Look," Blaine says suddenly, "there's something I need to tell you—" He pauses with a sigh but shook his head, _Coward. _"And there may be a chance that you will be mad at me for it... I don't want to lie to you and say that it was sudden, or anything like that, I obviously had planned it for a good amount of time. I mean, it was just a thought before it built up to the point of not being able to ignore it anymore."

_"B-Blaine... What are you trying to tell me?"_ Kurt's voice was slightly panicked, and the background noises changed from shifting to actual movement (_Walking, maybe_.) and the young man's breathing becoming heavier... then a door closing.

_I love you._ "It's nothing serious—" _Except it will change everything._ "—but it isn't exactly something you tell someone the day before." _You'll drift even further away from me._ "I mean—" _…but that was going to happen anyways… _He sighed and ran fingers through his ungelled hair. _I love you._ "I should have told you sooner... but I really didn't know how."

_"Blaine..."_ Kurt must have locked himself in a room because Blaine could hear someone knocking and their muffled speaking, Blaine did not hear Kurt's response though, he must have covered the speaker. _"Blaine, you're starting to scare me."_

He chuckled, "I didn't mean to do that." _I want to always protect you._ "It really isn't anything that serious... I just know you will be a little upset with me." _I want to always be with you. _Blaine sighed and then laughed again, "Here I am trying to tell you and I still don't know how to say this..." _I never wanted to leave you._

Kurt's own laugh lightened Blaine's heart and mood, _"You always did think about your words very carefully." _A big dramatic sigh was huffed straight into the phone, _"_But_ I guess I'll help you out this once. Just go ahead and give me the short version, I'll probably say 'What?' and then you give me the more detailed version. Okay? Simple."_

_Saying 'I love you' is impossible... Let alone simple._ "I'm moving... tomorrow."

Apparently it was not something that Kurt may have been suspecting, because his own predicted _"What?"_ was said softly, insecurely... but not devastated, not broken-hearted.

_I still love you._ The curly-haired man let himself take a few deep breaths, readying his tightening throat to talk and not reveal how utterly wrecked he was, "I was talking to Coop a few months ago about moving on into the music entertainment business instead of Broadway. He said he knew a guy who knew a guy, so I made a demo. They called me back and asked me to come into the studio; that was the business trip I went on last month. Anyways, I did some touring and a few live songs... That's pretty much it. I'm moving to LA and I leave tomorrow." _Liar. Liar. Liar. You're such a pathetic liar. Too cowardly to tell Kurt you love him, too cowardly to tell him why you're leaving, too cowardly to tell him the truth._

_"Blaine—"_

"I didn't know how to tell you," he quickly tried to reason with Kurt. _I love you too much to tell you I'm leaving..._ "No matter how much I thought it over or how I tried to phrase it, nothing seemed the right way and before I knew it—I was here! The day before and I still hadn't told you." _I love you too much to tell you goodbye... _"I know it wasn't right and I feel bad, Kurt, I really do... but how do you say something like that to one of the best friends you've ever known? Ever had?" _I love you too much—_ "I couldn't. I couldn't do that." _—to tell you I love you._

_"Wow, Blaine..."_ Kurt sighed, _"I just don't—I'm happy for you. But I am _so_ upset."_ The man on the other side of the line paused and was so silent that Blaine thought he hung up, before Kurt's now shaky voice came back, _"How could you not share all of this with me? I mean, you didn't know that you would be moving to LA in the beginning. Why not share the news?"_

"I—" _Liar._ "—didn't want to get my own hopes up. I mean—" _Liar._ "I was getting Broadway callbacks still and I hadn't really ever thought about _that_ part of the music industry." _Liar._ Blaine forced himself to stop his word vomit before he continued to lie to Kurt—a concept and action that was new to him.

Funny how he starts lying to Kurt after they broke up.

Kurt does not speak for several minutes, and while Blaine grows nervous about what was going to be said next—he could not help but stare out over the water and feel a sense of calm.

It was like he was at peace, at one with the universe. It was weird but he did not find himself upset with it—because the hole in his chest did not ache anymore.

_Weird... so weird._

_"Blaine... is there something else you want to tell me?"_

_Yes, I do._ He chuckled, "Like what?" _I love you._

_"I don't know, Blaine!"_ Kurt yelled, huffing on the other side of the line.

_I want to tell you._ "—and I'm supposed to?" _I should tell you._

Kurt must have been smiling because his voice was soft and breathy, _"I suppose not... but only if you really don't have anything else to say."_ He was fishing, Blaine would have called him on it if these last few years had not changed him, had not warped him.

_I might actually tell you._ "I don't know..." he trailed off to be teasing and had not intended it to come across as flirty—but it did.

_"Blaine—"_

"Excuse me."

A voice from Blaine's left drowned out what else Kurt said. He smiled apologetically, "Sorry, Kurt, just give me a second." The man turned to the new comer, a teenager from the looks of it, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," he said rudely, stepping closer than necessary. "You got any spare change?"

With a frowned brow Blaine looked at the teen questioningly but slid a hand down to the pockets of his jeans and finally shook his head, "Sorry, I don't. I spent all my cash on the Metro today." Figuring that was the end of it when the teen nodded, Blaine started to turn his attention back to Kurt and his gaze to the bay—

_BANG_

His ears were ringing. _What the hell was that?!_ He could barely hear Kurt calling his name, even with the phone pressed to his ear the other man's voice was muffled, like there was a pillow between his ear and the receiver... Even so, he sounded panicked... maybe even shouting.

Oh.

_Ow._

The hole in Blaine's chest throbbed more painfully than ever before—then suddenly the whole world tilted.

No, he was pushed.

The shove jostled him, making the pain in his chest flare. He fell to the ground, legs tangled, torso twisted, his shoulders on the ground, and his arms flung out from his sides. The shock of the pain numbed every other part of his body, causing him to lose grip on his cell. All he could do in the wake of his body focusing in on the pain, was blink unseeing up at the dark sky.

_BANG_

Pain spiked lower than the first and where breathing had been difficult before, it was nothing but desperate gasps—everything around him vibrated and he felt like his limbs were made of cotton, completely unresponsive. His vision disjointed from what he was hearing, like when the video did not load at the same time the audio did, so he heard what was being said before he saw it.

"Should have just givin' me the money." The teens lips moved as he jostled Blaine and tried to pull his wallet out of his pocket but something scared him off because he heard "Shit!" and the boy's head snapped to the side before he jumped up and ran off.

"Kurt," he whispered, wondering why he could not hear the other man anymore. "I love you, Kurt. I love you... I love you."

* * *

As he snapped back into awareness, he realized he was screaming. He tried for several unsuccessful seconds to choke the sound down. Gasping awkwardly as the noise slowly died down, leaving his throat an aching, throbbing mess.

Unclenching the grip he had on his duvet, he pushed himself up ignoring the pains stretching his fingers out caused. His knees automatically moved up to balance his new position but that just caused him to quickly pull them to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, so he could have something to hold onto. Something to anchor him and prove that he was no longer dreaming.

Blaine took his time calming himself. It was easier than the night before, he was secure in the fact that there was no one else in his room... but he kept his eyes closed just to be sure. He would rather think he was safe than to know he was in danger.

He had pulled his blinds up before he went to bed, favoring the light that half-closed drapes let in. It had made it harder to go to sleep because he felt like he was being watched, even when he knew that it was impossible with his bedroom on the second floor and no way to look into his room directly without a ladder. But now, (when he finally opened his eyes) with the way his room was gently lit up from the moon and street lights—he was glad for his actions. There was clearly no one in his room (but scanning the room five more times did not hurt), and his heart beat slowed with the realization.

When his gaze slid over to the nightstand and did not see his phone, his mind blanked—at least until he remembered he had tucked it under his pillow before he went to sleep.

Pressing his face into the pillow as he lay back down, he attempted to further calm his breathing by taking deep breaths and letting them out into the pillow... but what really seemed to calm him was when his hand came in contact with his phone. His whole body relaxed with a sigh, pulling his phone out from under the pillow he quickly unlocked it—

_5878._

The light flashed and illuminated his face; luckily he only had to blink a few times to get used to the brightness. Kurt's contact page was still pulled up from before he fell asleep, his smiling face calming Blaine as he continued to debate with himself to not bother Kurt with his problems.

They were not friends anymore. They did not talk on the phone regularly, they did not text, they did not Skype. There was not logical reason for Blaine to call Kurt because they were not on speaking terms... at least Kurt was not. Blaine also did not want to burden Kurt with his problems, his nightmares. It seemed unfair to press on Kurt that he had been scared to die, to not be there for Kurt, for him to lose Kurt... because he already had in a way.

Blaine was dead to Kurt—because he cheated.

Blaine was not there for Kurt—because he cheated.

Blaine lost Kurt—because he _cheated_.

He did not feel that he had the right to talk to Kurt, to look at Kurt, to even think about him in any form.

...but Blaine could have died. He _could_ have.

Kurt had moved on though. He was in New York. He was going to NYADA. He was living his dream... He had Adam.

Blaine did not want to pull him away from that. He did not want to burden him—because Blaine loved Kurt and only wanted the best for him.

Even if he was not a part of that.

With a sigh he slipped the phone back under the pillow as the screen blacked and the phone locked itself, but he did not let go.

Besides, it had only been three days since the shooting; he could deal with a few nightmares. It was not as if he would not _ever_ call Kurt and talk to him.

He would... soon, even.

Maybe he would even call him this week.

...maybe tomorrow.

But probably not.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, that's it for this one. I already know what I am going to do for the next chapter, so with a little forgiveness from my time schedule I will have it up within three weeks. Next week I am going to release the last part to ****_Feeling Wanted_****, so keep an eye out for that. Hopefully the following week, if I get my muse to stop bouncing around, I'll have the third chapter of ****_If There was No Cake_**** posted. Um... ****_Lay Me to Rest _****is hopefully going to stay regular but I'm thinking about bumping it down to one chapter a week even if it strays... Sorry.**

**Anyways, thank for the read and I hope you do not hate me too much.**

**Until next time,**

**Anjel Starlight**


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